Clock
by fanta-faerie
Summary: It was late when Molly Weasley made her way back to her kitchen, heaving a soft sigh. The battle had just ended, a world had just begun, but he...he was gone. Forever.


It was late when she stumbled into the kitchen, her tired eyes making out the familiar shapes with a sigh.

It was incredible, here in her quiet, tiny kitchen, to remember that just a few hours ago, she had been in the thick of battle, curses and spells flying through the air, heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.

It was incredible to take a seat at the rickety dining table and gaze at the other eight seats placed haphazardly around it.

It was impossible to realize that they would now only need seven- that their nine person family had dwindled to eight and would never be the same.

Molly passed a hand over her eyes, choking back a sob.

Images of her son flashed through her mind- Fred grinning at her mischievously as he held out a flower, Fred's astonished and angry face as she threw away their Ton-Tongue Toffees, Fred's scared face as he gazed upon George's mangled ear, Fred's curious face as he looked at the newborn Ron curled up tightly in a blanket-

_Oh Fred. _

She suddenly felt a warm pressure on the back of her neck and she looked up to see Arthur, his eyes still wet and filled with unimaginable sadness behind his glasses.

"Hey sweetheart." He said softly.

She tried to get out a hello in return but found that it stuck in her throat, that everything was closing up in her, that she was turning to stone from the inside out, that she wanted to wail in despair over her lost son but that she couldn't.

That he wouldn't let her.

"Shhh, it's okay," Arthur whispered gently, crouching to rest his head against her chest. "We'll be okay. He's….he's somewhere else now. And we'll see him again, I know we will."

Molly let out a strangled noise- she didn't know what she was feeling; this deep, pit of despair seemed to be something she could never climb out of.

And then out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red and her heart rose and she almost cried out, but-

"Ginny." Her husband said, reaching a hand out. "Come down, love."

And their little girl ran into her father's arms, sobbing as if her heart would break, her small hands fisting into his shirt, one pale arm reaching for her mother who could only look at her in disbelief for she had imagined- she had believed for one glorious second-

_Oh Fred._

It seemed as if hours passed before Ginny raised her tear-streaked face, looking at her mother through pain-filled eyes.

Arthur looked up too, his eyes red and his voice cracking. "Come on sweetheart. Let's….let's go to bed."

Ginny looked up at him wordlessly, and for a moment, she wasn't Ginny Weasley, a seventeen-year-old girl who fought in the battle of the century- she was Ginny Weasley, baby of the family who had seen and felt far too much in the space of twelve hours.

So when Arthur led her out the door, Molly remained, sitting wordlessly at the kitchen table that spoke to her of happier times.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she wondered about the rest of her children.

Bill was with Fleur, she knew, and Charlie was holed up with Percy, letting his younger brother sob into his shoulder as he lamented the reconciliation that lasted for so short a time.

Ron was with Harry and Hermione, and George…

_Oh Fred._

She felt a new wave of hysteria and tears hit her as she thought of George, her baby, the other half of Fred that had no purpose in life anymore, had no reason to live or to move on.

She wanted to beat her chest and scream, to sob uncontrollably and curse every living thing that moved, to kill, to kill, to _kill-_

_Oh Fred._

Suddenly a soft whir broke into her thoughts and out of habit she looked up at the clock near the stove.

Ginny's clock-hand had just moved to sleeping and the other hands were fluttering about, dancing around the words in an endless ballet.

It was only then that Molly realized Fred's hand was gone.

And that perhaps, was what truly woke her up to the fact that he was never coming back- that she would never again yell at him for playing stupid pranks, or ruffle his hair when he did something uncharacteristically sweet, or kiss his cheek as he boarded the train to leave her for another year.

Because this time he had bought a one-way ticket to leave her- because this time he was never coming back.

Dawn was just starting to peek through the curtained windows when Molly Weasley picked herself up and made her way to bed.

_Come back._

_We love you. _

_Oh Fred._

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><p><em><strong><strong>_**Hello all(: I randomly remembered the Weasley family clock and got hit by inspiration. I'm late to class though, which is why this entire thing is so hurried and slightly awkwardly written- but eh. **

**Review for me anyway? **

**Thankss! **

**-FantaFaerie**


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